


Undead Rising

by taaffeite



Series: Weapon X [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Girls Kissing, LOTS of violence, M/M, Medical Trauma, Multi, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Self-Discovery, Slow Burn, Trauma, Violence, also girls flirting, and oc is the only 1 actually in this, badass OC, but not many, except for flashbacks, glenn fangirls over oc, oc doesn't understand emotions, oc has never done either, oc hates shane, there's superhumans, tragic backstory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 02:51:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16255169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taaffeite/pseuds/taaffeite
Summary: She was a killer, trained for as long as she can remember, a weapon to be used by others. She was practically built for the apocalypse until she met the group and they started unlocked emotions she never thought even existed. It was a good thing, until it wasn't. People die left and right and morals conflict with logic. Navigating the world was hard, especially if you have never been in it, and even harder with the dead walking around.





	Undead Rising

**THE CITY WAS** swarming with reanimated corpses, thousands of the dead wandered the streets waiting, waiting for a person stupid enough to try and brave the urban landscape. Some could argue that Ripley was one of the stupid, but only those who did not know of her. Ripley was not a normal young woman her circumstances were peculiar, she had lived a life some would consider impossible. It was those circumstanced that made her neither stupid nor brave to venture through the city. In fact, if anybody _should_ be in the city it was someone like her. Her feet were silent as they moved across the cement rooftop, her breathing was slow and calm, her eyes flickered in every direction at the slightest noise, she was ready for anything to happen at any time. Her weapons remained undrawn as she walked, she was confident in her abilities to not need them in her hands every second.

Beads of sweat dripped down Ripley’s neck, rolling over her shoulder and down her back as the hot sun beat down on her, it wasn’t a feeling she particularly liked but she wouldn’t complain, she never would. It was only six weeks ago that she saw the sun for the first time she could remember, the first time in about eighteen years. She would never take the sun for granted, no matter how uncomfortable it made her in the summer heat or how it liked to try and burn her flesh or starve her of water. The small sphere that hung in the sky was her saving grace, the symbol of freedom.

The growls and groans of the dead echoed through the air, the sheer number of them creating a loud rumble. Thousands of people had died in the city, whether they had panicked and made a stupid decision, been caught in the Napalm bombs dropped, been suck up on by one of the already dead, they all ended up part of the migrating herd of the dead. A frown pulled at Ripley’s brow as a high-pitched whine echoed over the dead, it wasn’t human but she wasn’t quite sure what it was, it was pain filled though, pain transcended language and species. Gunshots followed it, one, two, three, and then, what could only be described as a muffled _bang_. As if someone had fired a gun in a tightly enclosed space.

Curiously, Ripley moved to the edge of the building, peering over she could make out a tank surrounded by the dead, some crawling on top of it, trying to get at what was inside. And there was something inside, a bag laid a few feet from it, there was another group of dead feeding on something not too far, yes there was defiantly something inside. After a few more minutes of watching a head popped out of the top of the tank, dark hair, pale. He heaved himself out, knocking one the dead out of his way with a metal pipe and jumping to the ground, he took off towards an alley. Red hat. Curiosity piqued even further, Riley jumped to the next roof, and the next, following the man from the tank and the one in the red hat. The climbed up a fire escape to another building and then moved to another alley, they alley was blocked by a large bus.

Another jump found Ripley on the building to the side of the alley, the two men were followed by four of the dead but two others jumped out from the building and took care of them. On top of the building, Ripley notice a lone man pacing, he held a rifle in one hand and let it rest on his shoulder, his other hand was by his nose in a fist and turned to the side. He tweaked his neck as his fist dropped, his behaviour seemed to become erratic after that, he gripped the gun and pointed it down into the street. Ripley blinked at the man’s stupidity, his actions could cost his comrades their lives and yet he didn’t seem to care. The young woman adjusted the twin chisha katana on her back, moved from the edge of the building to gain a running start, and let to the other building. Her feet left the ground, air rushed past her ears and for a second it felt like she was falling, her feet then came into contact with the ground again, Ripley rolled to cushion her landing.

As soon as her feet were back under her she jumped up and approached the man, he didn’t notice her, too consumed in erratic behaviour. Out of the corner of her eye Ripley noted the group of people who had just come through the door to the roof, a Latino man, a black man, a blonde woman, a black woman, the man from the tank, and the man with the red hat. The shooter still had his back to them, even as his comrades screamed at him to stop, so Ripley was easily able to reach around him, grab the gun, yank it forward and twist it out of his hands before thrusting the butt of it into the man’s nose, breaking it.

“Fuck!” the man howled, his hands going to cup his bleeding nose. “The fuck ‘r yew? ‘N the fuck yew think yer doin’, bitch?”

Ripley ignored him and threw the gun towards the Latino man; he jumped slightly but managed to catch it. The group of people were sending her weary looks. The redheaded woman supposed that she looked rather threatening despite her small stature, she was dressed head to toe in all black (black tank top, black leather vest over it, black skinny jeans, black belt, black boots), had a gun hanging by either hip, two blades at her back, and the handle of two knives sticking out of the top of her boots. And she had just hurt one of theirs, threat to the rest of them or not.

“I know you!” the red hat wearing Asian man suddenly said. Ripley looked at him blankly, his comrades also turned to look at him causing his cheeks to redden. “T-those files that leaked months ago… uh, th-the Project Alpha files! You were part of the Weapons Division!”

“I remember that,” Ripley looked to the man from the tank, she noticed he was wearing a uniform, he was a police officer. “We looked those files over dozens of times.”

“You’re Ripley! Weapon Ten, right?” the Asian man asked, a large grin on his face.

“Yes,” Ripley nodded; it wasn’t what they had called her at the facility but it was close enough. The others were called by the number but Ripley was referred to by the letter her number represented.

The conversation was abruptly ended as Ripley felt a cold metal press to the side of her head. The former gun-toting man had pulled a handgun and was holding it to her head, his moved elicited gasps of shock from his comrades, some even seemed to pale. Ripley remained calm; she could be out of his hold and with his secondary weapon in moments but she stopped herself, it could be possible that this man could get a shot off at one of the others. It was a risk she didn’t want to take, she would let it play out and see what happened.

“Hey, Dixon, are you crazy?” the black man, exclaimed, coming to Ripley’s defence. “Put the gun down!” The man, Dixon, only laughed. The black main stepped closer continuing, “come on, you already brought the walkers down on our asses, and wasted bullets we don’t have. Don’t waste another, let the girl go.” 

“Hey! Y’all be more polite to a man with a gun,” Dixon sneered, chuckling darkly as he pressed the metal harder into Ripley’s skull. “Huh? Ah! Only common sense.”

“Man, just chill,” the black man pleaded.

“Hey! Bad enough I’ve got this taco-bender on my ass all day,” Ripley frowned at the descriptor; from the look on the Latino man’s face is wasn’t a nice thing. “Now I’m gonna take orders from you? I don’t think so, bro. That’ll be the day.”

He let her go and took a threatening step forward, his gaze set on a new target, Ripley noticed his gun falling part was behind his back, as it vanished so it seemed the memory of it did too. The others attention was solely on the two men, all else seemingly forgotten. Ripley kept close, and out of the corner of her eye she noticed the officer step close to the men, and subsequently to her too.

“’That’ll be the day’?” the black man scoffed. “You got something you wanna tell me?”

“Hey, T-Dog, man, just leave it,” the Latina man said.

“No.”

“All right? It ain’t worth it,” he tried again. “Now Merle, just relax, okay? We’ve got enough trouble.”

Dixon kept his eyes on the black man, T-Dog, taunting. “You want to know the day?

“Yeah.”

“I’ll tell you the day, Mr ‘Yo’. It’s the day I take orders from a nigger.”

“Mother–”

T-Dog cut himself off as he launched at Dixon, the scuffle was short with a clear winner. Whatever Dixon had taken gave him enough energy to send a few powerful punches to T-Dog’s face and body, the others yelled for him to stop and the Latino man tired to approach but Dixon subdued his opponent. The gun found its way back into the open and the side of T-Dog’s head. Dixon looked rather pleased with himself as he spat on the man under him; Ripley’s right hand founds its way to rest on the gun at her right hip as the rest of the group seemed to freeze.

“Yeah! All right! We’re gonna have ourselves a little powwow, huh? Talk about who’s in charge. I vote me. Anybody else? Huh? Democracy time, y’all. Show of hands, huh?” no hands raised prompting Dixon to push the gun harder into T-Dog’s head and send a threatening look at his people. “All in favour? Huh? Come on. Let’s see ‘em. Oh, come on. All if favour?” at his expectant look the others reluctantly starting to raise their hands. “Yeah. That’s good. Now that means I’m the boss, right? Yeah. Anybody else? Hmm? Anybody?”

“Yeah,” while Dixon had been indulging in his ego trip, the officer had snuck up behind him; he had also come into possession of the rifle which came down to connect with Dixon’s head, with him dazed state the officer was able to handcuff Dixon to a pipe.

“Who the hell are yew, man,” Dixon spat.

“Officer Friendly,” the man said sarcastically. “Look here, Merle. Things are different now. There are no ‘niggers’ anymore. No dumb-as-shit, inbred- white trash fools either. Only dark meat and while meat. There’s us and the dead. We survive this by pulling together, not apart.”

“Screw yew man,” Dixon grunted.

Officer Friendly sighed. “I see you make a habit of missing the point.”

“Yeah?” Dixon scoffed. “Well, screw yew twice.”

“Ought to be more polite to a man with a gun,” the officer smirked, holding a Colt Python at the man. “Only common sense.”

“Yew wouldn’t. Yer a cop.”

Ripley tilted her head, she had very limited experience of the outside world but what experience she did have with people in positions of authority over others made her question Dixon’s words. In her world, a guard–which was the cop of the facility she guessed–would have no problem shooting someone if they felt like it.

“All I am anymore is a man looking for his wife and son. Anybody that gets in the way of that is gonna lose. I’ll give you a moment to think about that. Got something on your nose there, besides the blood.”

“What are you gonna do? Arrest me?” Dixon laughed; his laughter cut off when he noticed the officer searching through his bad. “Hey! What are yew doin’?” the officer threw a canister off of the roof. “Man, that was my stuff! Hey! If I get loose, ye’d better prat… yeah, yew hear me, yew pig?! Yew hear me?!”

“Yeah, your voice carries.”

“Do yew hear me, yew filthy pig?!” Ripley glared at the man; she wanted to shut him up. She wouldn’t, it would leave a bad impression on the group, but she wanted to.

“You’re not Atlanta P.D. Where you from,” the Latino man asked the officer.

“Up the road a ways.”

“Well, Officer Friendly from up the road a ways, welcome to the big city.”

Ripley looked over the edge of the building, the growling seemed to grow louder, not because the dead were louder themselves but because it seemed like their numbers were growing. Hundreds of the dead were swarming the road around the building, trying to get in. If it came down to it, Ripley wasn’t sure if she could take care of them _and_ get all of the other’s out–maybe but maybe not. The others eventually made their way to the roof’s edge as well, each looking nervous at the number of dead accumulating. The Asian man with the red hat stood beside Ripley, shuffling his weight from one foot to another and darting his eyes from her face to the street below, when she turned to look at him he shrunk down slightly and wrung his hands. 

“Uh, I–uh… I’m sorry if I offended you,” he stuttered.

Ripley blinked at the word. ‘Offended’, Corrie hadn’t mentioned that one, she supposed Corrie hadn’t mentioned many feelings; they were only together a short time. Offended? Ripley didn’t think she felt it, what ever _it was_. “Why would you have offended me?”

“I, uh,” he swallowed thickly. “I kinda gushed about the files but, I mean, I read them so I know what you went through wasn’t cool, it was horrible really, so I just wanna–”

“What’s your name?”

He blinked at her question. “Uh, G-Glenn

“You have nothing to worry about, Glenn,” she assured him. “I was not offended.” _Whatever that means._

“Oh, okay. Cool, I uh, I mean, good?” he frowned at himself.

“Cool,” Ripley nodded, she didn’t know what cool was but she figured it was a good thing when he smiled at her.

“Hey, Glenn, check the alley,” the Latino man called, pulling the two’s attention from the conversation. “You see any manhole covers?”

Glenn moved to check. “No, must be all out on the street where the geeks are.”

“Maybe not,” the black woman disagreed. “Old buildings like this built in the twenties… big structures often had drainage tunnels into the sewers in case of flooding down in the subbasements.”

“How do you know that?” Glenn asked.

“It’s my job… was. I worked in the city zoning office.

Ripley stared at them for a moment as they walked towards the door that led to the building. They seemed like good enough people–though her experience with good people was limited to a scientist who treated her humanly while simultaneously putting her through traumatic tests and woman and child whom she had saved a few weeks ago. They reminded her of Corrie and Miles, just people trying to survive together. Did she mean to stay with these people? She considered it and decided that the least she could do was help them get out of the city and back to their people, if they weren’t as good as she assumed then it would be easy for her to leave.

The group was in the basement, gathered around the entrance to the sewer peering down the ladder that led only to darkness. Ripley’s silent footsteps let her enter undetected, no one noticing her until she moved her stand next to Glenn, he jumped when her shoulder brushed against him alerting everyone to her presence.

“This is it?” she asked.

“Are you sure?” the Latino man questioned, looking at Glenn.

“I really scoped this place out the other times I was here. It’s the only thing in the building that goes down. But I’ve never gone down it. Who’d want to, right?” everybody looked at him. “Oh. Great.”

“We’ll be right behind you,” the blonde assured.

“No, you won’t,” Glenn shook his head. “Not you.”

The woman’s face screwed up with… was this offence? When someone said something and you didn’t like it? Maybe Ripley would ask later. “Why not me? Think I can’t?”

“I wasn’t…” Glenn trained off, a hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

“Speak your mind,” the officer encouraged.

“Look, until now I always came here by myself… in and out, grab a few things… no problem. The first time I bring a group… everything goes to hell. No offence. If you want me to go down this gnarly hole, I don’t want you all jammed up behind me getting me killed. I’ll take one person… not you either,” Glenn said to the officer. “You’ve got Merle’s gun and I’ve seen you shoot. I’d fell better if you were out in that store watching those doors, covering our ass. And you’ve got the only other gun, so you should go with him,” to the blonde. “You be my wingman,” to the Latino man. “Jacqui stays here. Something happens, yell down to us, get us back up here in a hurry. Uh, Ripley should probably head to the store too.”

“Okay,” the black woman, Jacqui, agreed.

“Okay, everybody knows their jobs.”

Ripley followed the officer and the blonde to the department store above. She let the two others converse with each other while she kept a vigilant eye out, the dead were crammed up against the glass doors at the entrance, the pressure starting to bend the metal frame slightly and crack the glass. Ripley’s enhanced hearing allowed her to hear the conversation as she wondered through the store, the blonde apologised for pulling a gun on the officer, and the officer was telling the blonde about the safety on the gun, that red meant it was ready to fire. The redhead wasn’t left alone for long, the officer wandered over to her, he seemed slightly cautious but stick his hand out in front of himself and smiled.

“I don’t believe I introduced myself, I’m Rick.”

Ripley smiled at the gesture and took his hand, she had seen people do it before, when first meeting. “I’m Ripley, but you probably already knew that.

“I did,” he nodded. “I saw the leaks, and the news reports.”

“I think a lot of people have,” Ripley commented offhandedly. “I hear it was a pretty big story.”

Rick nodded again. “Was on the news constantly while I was still awake. Whatever happened after the story broke?”

Ripley shrugged. “Nothing, for us everything went on as normal.”

“I find that very hard to believe,” the look on his face confirmed that he was in disbelief. “There was so much coverage, protests, a lot of government officials were fired… noting happened on your end?”

“The Project was set up by rogue government agents, they didn’t care what the public wanted just as long as they could keep the location of the facility hidden from outsiders. And besides, the virus was already becoming a problem, not to public knowledge, but to higher ups, they were too busy trying to contain it to do anything.”

“How did you get out?”

“Everyone left,” Ripley said simply. “When things started to get bad people went to their families, some bit a bullet. Eventually there weren’t enough people to keep us in line, we broke out and went our separate ways.”

Rick looked so sad for her, Ripley wasn’t used to people looking at her like that, Corrie had looked at her like that, it made a strange feeling crawl through her stomach, she cleared her throat, now somewhat uncomfortable.

Rick chuckled at her. “Why don’t we go talk to Andrea?”

The redhead nodded, the two spotted her looking at some jewellery; Ripley tilted her head at the pendant, it didn’t look like any creature she had seen or heard of, it had the torso and head of a human woman but the bottom half was scaled and looked like a long fish tail. A peculiar thing, it was pretty though; Ripley had never had jewellery, not that she could remember anyway.

“See something you like?” Rick asked.

“No me, but I know someone who would… my sister,” a fond smile came across Andrea’s face. “She’s still such a kid in some ways. Unicorns, dragons… she’s into all that stuff. But mermaids… they rule. She love’s mermaids.”

Mermaid… it fit somehow. Ripley looked to Andrea and asked, “why not take it?”

Andrea smiled and looked pointedly at Rick. “There’s a cop looking at me. Would it be considered looting?”

“I don’t think those rules apply anymore. Do you?” Rick chuckled.

Suddenly, the glass gave way and shattered, the dead flooding in and pounding against the interior set of doors. Ripley pulled one of her guns and poised herself, ready to shoot if they broke through the last set of doors, Rick and Andrea beside her until Glenn and the Latino man returned and joined them as well.

“What did you find down there?” Rick asked.

“Not a way out,” the Latino man said.

“We need to find a way out,” Andrea distressed. “And soon.”

A truer point had never been spoken, while Ripley was sure she could get out herself she suddenly realised that there was no way that she could get everyone out with her, she knew that it wasn’t possible, she wished it was but these people were only civilians with little to no combat experience–they the only reason they would have any was because of the dead rising–and no training, save for Rick. There was also the fact that Ripley was not much of a planner, no she was the renegade of her designation, shoot first ask questions later–if at all–if you will; and Ripley would rather get everyone out than not. The small group headed back to the roof to figure out a plan. 

“That construction site,” Ripley turned to Rick and followed his line of sight, sure enough, not too far from the building was a construction site complete with trucks and the like, “those trucks… they always keep keys on hand.”

“You’ll never make it past the walkers,” the Latino man, whose name she still hadn’t gotten, said.

“You got me out of that tank,” Rick said looking pointedly at Glenn.

“Yeah,” Glenn shrugged, “but they were feeding. They were distracted.”

“Can we distract them again?”

“Right,” Dixon called to them. “Listen to him. He’s onto something. A diversion, like on Hogan’s Heroes.”

“God. Give it a rest,” Jacqui sighed.

“They’re drawn by sound,” Ripley piped up. “And smell.”

Rick looked at her, an idea lighting up his eyes. “If we smell like them, they might think we’re one of them.”

Ripley nodded along. “I’ll do it.”

“Not by yourself, I’m coming too,” Rick said. Ripley nodded again even though she didn’t think it was such a good idea, he seemed convinced in not letting her go alone. He then looked at Glenn who groaned again. “You know the streets.”

“I’ll watch your back,” Ripley promised. “Nothing will get at you.”

“Fine,” he sighed. “There should be two in the alley still.”

It wasn’t much in the way of a plan but it seemed the only one they were gonna get. It wasn’t bad by any means; in fact it was rather genius. Rick had suggested raincoats and rubber gloves to keep the guts from staining their hands and clothes.

“If bad ideas were an Olympic event, this would take the gold,” Glenn complained, Ripley didn’t know what the Olympics were and she didn’t ask, she might later.

“He’s right,” the Latino man agreed. “Just stop, okay? Take some time to think this through.”

“How much time?” Rick asked. “They already got through one set of doors, that glass wont hold forever.”

“It’s a good idea,” Ripley said in Rick’s defence. “The best one we’re gonna get. Glenn and Rick will be fine, if it doesn’t work I can distract the hoard until they’re safe.”

“What if you get bit?” the Latino man stressed.

Ripley sent him a small, assuring smile. “I’ll be fine, I’m immune.”

“What?” a voice, Andrea maybe, gasped.

Ripley shrugged. “I heal, I’ve never been sick, I can regrow my limbs, I got shot in the head and woke up a few minutes later and felt nothing. You don’t need to worry about me. It’s a good plan, so lets do it.”

“Morales?” Rick asked the Latino man–finally, a name.

He sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Rick and Morales headed out into the alley to grab one of the bodies, the smell of rotting flesh was something Ripley had somewhat grown used to the past few weeks; it lingered everywhere. The others stood nervously as Rick grabbed the fire axe off of the wall; Ripley wondered if he could actually do it, he had a strange attitude about everything, like he almost couldn’t believe what had happened to the world, like he hadn’t had time to adjust to it yet. If he couldn’t Ripley would take the axe and do it for him. Rick hesitated for a moment and got down on one knee, his hands searching through his pockets, he pulled out a wallet.

“Wayne Dunlap. Georgia licence. Born in 1979. He had twenty eight dollars in his pocket when he died… and a picture of a pretty girl. ‘With love, from Rachel.’ He used to live like us… worrying about bills or the rent or the Super Bowl,” Ripley wasn’t sure what rent or the Super Bowl was, and she figured that Wayne Dunlap didn’t live like she had but she got the point Rick was trying to make, he was human once. “If I ever find my family, I’m gonna tell them about Wayne.”

“One more thing…” Glenn said, peering at the licence. “He was an organ donor.”

The group shared a silent moment that was broken when Rick started hacking at the body, the crunching of bone and squishing of innards being cut prompted gasps and retches for the others in the group, while Ripley stood stone still unaffected. Rick ordered Morales to keep chopping and handed him the axe.

“Everybody got gloves? Don’t get any on your skin or in your eyes,” Rick said.

Andrea gagged and grimaced as she scooped up a handful of blood and guts to smear onto Ripley, the blonde apologised as she packed the innards on Ripley’s coat, her mouth clamped shut fairly quickly after and Ripley got the feeling that the woman was trying not to vomit.

“Oh God!” she heard Glenn say weakly. “Oh jeez. Oh, this is bad. This is really bad.”

“Think about something else,” Rick suggested. “Puppies and kittens.”

“Dead puppies and kittens,” T-Dog muttered, looking down at the mutilated corpse with a disturbed look on his face.

Glenn’s face turned white and clammy, he proceeded to hunch over and vomit all over the ground. Ripley felt a little bad for him.

“That is just evil,” Andrea scolded. “What is wrong with you?”

“Next time let the cracker beat his ass,” Jacqui said.

“I’m sorry, yo.”

“You suck,” Glenn groaned, standing straight.

“Do we smell like them?” Rick asked.

“Oh yeah,” Andrea cringed looking away from Ripley. She turned to Glenn and held out her gun to him. “Just in case.”

“If we make it back, be ready,” Rick instructed.

Ripley shook her head and corrected him, “when.”

“What about Merle Dixon?” Rick tossed T-Dog the handcuff keys.

“Give me the axe. We need… we need more guts,” Rick started to chop again.

All smeared with blood and stomach fluid, fat and muscle, with organs on their clothes and around their necks, the three headed out into the alley. Rick took the lead while Ripley took the back. The three crawled under the bus that was blocking the alley way and came out the other side to the huge hoard of dead that were shuffling around, they joined them, shuffling slowly through the small gaps they left, footsteps silent and breathing slow. Ripley kept close to the two; her eyes darting around to make sure nothing came out and surprised them. It seemed to be working, they were bumped and a few heads turned their way but the dead were convinced that they were one of them.

“It’s gonna work,” Glenn whispered. “I can’t believe it.”

“Don’t draw attention,” Rick whispered back.

It was a slow process, shuffling between the dead. The three kept calm and collected, even as distant thunder sounded warning of rain. It was going well, until rain started to fall, Ripley moved her right hand to the blade sticking up by her right shoulder, she knew that if the rain kept up it wouldn’t end well. The water hitting their coats left trails of light pink where the blood was starting to wash off, she could see Rick and Glenn trying not to panic as the dead started to notice them, moving closer to try and catch a whiff and becoming more aggressive as they tried to figure out if the three were dead or alive.

“The smells washing off, isn’t it?” Glenn’s voice trembled slightly.

“No, it’s not,” Rick lied. “Well, maybe.”

The smell was indeed washing off, and as more washed off the dead around them began to realise that the three weren’t kin but rather sustenance. One charged and Rick swung his axe, crushing its skull and puncturing its brain. Ripley’s left hand moved to her other blade before she pulled both of them out of their sheaths and stood protectively between the dead behind them and the two men.

“Go!” she ordered them. “Run!”

“W-what about you?” Glenn panicked.

“Pick me up on your way back.”

Ripley rolled her shoulders in preparation before she unleashed an onslaught on the dead, cutting them down as they came at her, she managed to keep most of them from approaching Rick and Glenn, and those that slipped by the two took care of easily. She dodged grabbing hands and snapping teeth, their blood and guts stained her blades and her clothes again but the smell didn’t help anymore, they already knew what she was. As she ended their second lives she kicked them down and let them pile up along she street as she moved further away from the building, trying to draw as many as possible.

Distantly she hard the truck start and drive away, she grunted as one of the dead threw themselves at her but kept listening out for any indication that the others had found trouble. One of the dead managed to tangle its fingers in Ripley red hair; she threw her leg out behind her to knock it off balance and turned, her hair pulling painfully as she buried one of her blades into its skull. Glass breaking, not from the store, no, the noise wasn’t loud enough, not enough glass fell, and then a car alarm sounded, and an engine revved.

A bright red sports car drove a small distance away; Ripley killed one last of the dead swarming at her before she took off running towards it, sheathing her blades. Glenn stopped to pick her up and then continued towards the front of the store to lure away the dead. Ripley wound down her window and pulled off the soiled clothes to throw them out, it helped but her face was still covered in rotting blood and her hair was matted with it, she could wash it out later. Glenn seemed to be having the time of his life, adrenaline clearly flowing as he revved the car’s engine at the dead and turned the music as loud as it would go. Most of dead turned to them, no longer interested in the storefront. Many followed but many also didn’t, as Glenn drove away she faintly heard the interior doors of the shop shatter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> obvs i don't own twd but i do own ripley and her background. 
> 
> this is gonna be a slooooow burn because ripley has the emotional range of a teaspoon and has a lot to learn, there will be no romantic relationship in this book (unless i decide to do s3 in this instead of just 1&2, we'll see) but don't worry because ripley still gets a lot of love.


End file.
